


Back on the Block

by PhantomProducer



Series: A Call to Arms [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America is Horny As Hell, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/OC, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Gaelic use (for one sentence), I'm gutter trash, Irish Steve Rogers, Multilingual!Steve Rogers strikes again, NSFW, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, One Shot, Oral Sex, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pregnant Sex, Push-up position, Shower Sex, Steve Rogers Feels, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Where did these feelings come from?, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomProducer/pseuds/PhantomProducer
Summary: Pregnancy symptoms can keep anybody down. However, they don't last indefinitely. And when Holly realizes this, she won't be held back any longer from her desires and designs. Designs shared by her star-spangled husband, Steve Rogers.Set during Ch. 14 of the FF.net story, By First Light. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Minor backstory: in my story, _The Eleventh Hour_ , Steve Rogers marries a girl named Holly. In the follow-up story, _By First Light_ , it is discovered that she is pregnant. Consequently, she has suffered from exhaustion, morning sickness, and other ailments up until her eleventh week of pregnancy. At that point, she starts to feel better, more like her old self again. More like her old...amorous...self again. And Steve, patient little punk he can be, has noticed. This take place in early January, 2016.  
> I own nothing of the MCU, just the OC, Holly Rogers (maiden name Martin). You can read about her relationship with Steve Rogers, and her experiences with the other Avengers over on FF.net under the same username I have here. Also don't own the mentions of _Star Wars_ terms.

It was as if the journey to the master bathroom was both interminable and finished in seconds flat at once. Six weeks, six long weeks had passed since the last intimate touch, the last time Steve had filled Holly completely. For some, that hardly seemed like much, but for Holly, the past few days had made it seem like agony. At first, she was almost glad for the respite from conjugal activities; morning sickness, tender breasts, and near-constant tiredness did not make one amorous in the least. He had been understanding of it (not that he couldn't be, anyway; he was partly at fault for making her pregnant in the first place), not pushing for more and backing off when her sensitivity was too great. It was like the beginning of their relationship, all small grazes and innocent kisses taken in quiet moments. However, the tension had not been forgotten; it was all bubbling, building over the days, subdued to the subconscious and coloring her dreams. She had been plagued by her desires, acting on them in the sleeping hours when she could not in the world of reality. And that day, finally, she felt as though she could actually pursue them without screaming in agony or feeling like she was half a person.  
  
One obstacle was well out of the way when they'd made their ascent from the basement to the second floor; the only stitch of clothing left on Steve were his boxers, the workout gear he'd been sporting since they'd gotten home having been relegated to the wash. While she did delight in the sight of him, she became far more occupied with the feel of his body, the tones and angles pressing against her curves as he stopped her halfway up the stairs. Hot breath and the smooth swipe of his tongue on her neck and throat made a moan course out of her. The heat pooled so fast and low that when he finally made his way to her mouth, she was tempted to push him down and take him right there on the steps. Instead, she grabbed his wrists, almost running them both to their room at the end of the hall. The door slammed shut as they crossed, carpet giving way to cool tile as they finally made it into the bathroom. Her backside landed against the counter in between sinks, the slight twinge of pain forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kiss deepened as her tongue dragged over his. She was full of taste and excitement as he responded just as enthusiastically. When Steve's hands started to tug, quest for more, Holly broke off for air. His fingers, his hands, snaking down, blocked by the thinnest layers of clothing, the arch of him against her...her head swam as she nudged him back. A groan reverberated in his throat, and she giggled a bit, a breathless sound absorbing her own reluctance. Hazy blue eyes stared down at her, hungry and wanting. Her own dark gaze reflected back at him, flicking away towards the adjacent wall. Though the house had been quite a find for them, the master bathroom had been a nice surprise. Particularly with the wide, updated shower that was large enough to fit them both comfortably.  
  
“Ah, ah. Shower, buddy,” she reminded him, shifting back when he leaned in for another kiss. Reaching up, she laid a palm against his cheek, hot and dewy still from his extended boxing session in the basement. Her thumb ran along his lower lip, the slight pout tempting her to take it between her teeth and lavish attention all over it. “That is what we came up here for, after all.”  
  
It wasn't as if her point wasn't valid; it was his suggestion to go upstairs for a shower after boxing, and to bring her along, too. In the moment, it had been gross to have him hold her and slather her with his sweat to accomplish that task, but right then, she wasn't about to complain. Fingers traveled south, curling into the waistband of his boxers and lowering them enough to get the point across without taking them off.  
  
“True,” he chuckled, another buss pressed to her lips before he moved away fully. Following her prompting, he went to turn on the shower, dropping his boxers just as he opened the glass door. The pool of navy fabric was kicked away as he leaned in and turned the water on, fiddling with the shower head so it would be less of a lashing spray and more of a warm waterfall. Considerate of him to do so, she mused. Even more so that he was doing it with his bare backside jutting out, and his long, toned legs as much on display and the muscles of his back twitching as he worked. Glancing down at herself for a brief second, she bit her lip, crossing her arms below her chest and turning her attention back to her husband. Finally finishing with the water pressure adjustments, he stepped back out, stray droplets on his shoulders and hair shaken off. Catching her avid staring, he turned to face her, the hand on the shower door gripping tightly as her gaze slid over him, pausing on a particular part and licking her lips. If it wasn't already raised, hard and proud, that look certainly would've gotten him there. Pink flushed up his neck and down his chest, going lower still the longer she looked at him. Noting her clothed state, and her solid stance across the room from him, he spiked an eyebrow.  
  
“What are you waiting for, doll?” he asked, more playful than impatient, though he was feeling both. She canted her head, ponytail shifting as she lifted a shoulder.  
  
“I'm not so much waiting as admiring the view for a moment,” she said, a corner of her mouth lifting and her arms curling a little tighter around herself. It was impossible to deny that Steve Rogers was a gorgeous man, and to have him so close, right there, nearly everyday, was intoxicating. The shirt shifted under her grasp, but she made no effort to remove it. Wanting to remedy that, Steve let the shower door go, striding over to her as it snapped back into place.  
  
“I've seen better,” Steve proclaimed, reaching out for her. At once, she released her hold on herself, snatching his wrists and pausing his endeavor. Off the confused scrunch of his brow, she coughed.  
  
“You say that now, Nerfherder,” she tried to jest, the little worm of anxiety sneaking its way through the haze that had been building around them. The last time they'd had sex, she didn't have Bump pushing out obviously, didn't have the off-color weals and lines of stretch marks just starting to mar her skin. Yes, pregnancy was hailed as a great and glorious part of the cycle of life, but she couldn't help but feel...less than herself in that moment. Not with such a specimen of physical fitness right in front of her. Granted, she wasn't as far as her eighth month, and did not have the host of issues that came with it, but that didn't negate how she felt. Indeed, it just reminded her how much farther she still had to go, and how—even though she was happy and excited for it to happen—having a baby was altering her.  
  
Swallowing hard, the weak smile gracing her lips drooped. “Things have changed a little in the last few weeks. And will keep doing so.”  
  
The deadpan expression he sported spoke volumes, though he did manage to retort, “Remember who you're talking to, Princess.”  
  
_'Yes, remember. Your husband, a man who was rebuilt from the ground up like a classic car remodel. The one who looks like perfection on a plate no matter how much beer and pizza he can ingest in one sitting.'_  
  
Holly actually rolled her eyes at that, her good mood suddenly dissipating. It was petty, and she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking it.  
  
“Wait until I've blown up like a Macy's float, and I look—”  
  
“Look like you always have?” he completed for her, gaze turning serious. Holding her eyes with his, he lifted her shirt inch by inch, the frozen wonder being buffed away little by little by his scrutiny. Soon enough, the article was dropped to the floor, her bra unhooked and landing atop it (which was a relief, as it was a size too small; shopping for maternity wear was definitely on the docket in the next few days). His focus ran down her body, his hands following after, tracing over the skin and curves. Pads skittered over the few small stretch marks, over the darkening areolas and pebbling them. As they came to rest on the soft waistband of her lounge pants, thumbs dipping below to brush her hips, he told her exactly what that was. “Which is beautiful, by the way.”  
  
The pronouncement was spoken as if it were just a matter of course, though Holly knew he did not mean it that way in the slightest. Steve's sentiments were deeper than he'd let on, a few easy words spoken in place of the eloquent phrases some could come up. She understood that, very well. The hardness in her heart softened, the sincerity in his tone overriding the chiding thoughts of her mind. Her arms looped around his shoulders, and she sighed.  
  
_'Remember. Steve, the man who was once thought of as less-than, who was altered and changed from himself into something more. The man who can look at you and still see you under the physical.'_  
  
Still wanting verbal confirmation, though, she queried, “Even when I'm carrying a basketball instead of this?”  
  
“Yes,” he confessed, as if telling her the simplest and greatest truth of the world. Fingers scurried over her stomach, along the curve of her belly before his palm rested along it. It was too early to feel the baby quickening, but he liked to think of his child, their child, being only millimeters away from him. Still growing, still forming, still becoming part of him and part of her. He lifted her chin with his other hand, intent on her wide brown eyes as she stared back. A light tap of his thumb at her belly came then, and he murmured, “This is beautiful, and good. One of the few good things that we've got in our lives.”  
  
Honest to the last, he was. There was a lot of adversity in the world they lived in, a lot of trials and hardships passed and on the horizon, but that was not one of them. Despite the changes and discomfort, the baby was brightness, growing sharper and clearer every day.  
  
“No part about this, or you, that I don't like, Holly,” he completed his thought, taking the band out of her hair and making it fall around her shoulders. Bracing his forehead against hers, he felt the last portion of tension stiffen her, the last nerve touched. Wryly, he wondered, “Didja think I wouldn't?”  
  
Ruefulness curved her mouth, lit her eyes. “We all have moments of doubt.”  
  
Nodding at that, he held her, hard muscle meeting soft curve as he drew her into his embrace. His lips played and danced over hers, mouthing a line to the sweet spot below her ear.  
  
“Is yours gone?” Another peck, and his low rumble made her shake in his arms. “Or am I gonna have to show you otherwise?”  
  
Closing her eyes, she smiled impishly, nails trailing lightly down his back. The heat between them rose once more, and she basked in its return. Especially when she was nudged with the twitching evidence of it, and had to press her thighs together to stop their quivering.  
  
“I dunno. Maybe,” she responded, tilting her head to the side. As he licked and nibbled at her neck, she grasped at one side of her lower garments, determined to be rid of them. “You might have to show me a few times.”  
  
“I am ready, able and willing to do that,” he affirmed with a grin, grabbing the other side of the cloth and helping her push down her pants and underwear. “As many times as is necessary.”  
  
With that, he threaded his fingers with hers, drawing her across the room. Into the shower they went, the hot water banishing the cold that had encompassed them. At her insistence, he went under first, actually needing to be cleaned up. He did so gladly, bending when she commanded so that she could lather shampoo into his hair. The tousle of his hair and the glide of her fingers across his scalp shot hot spirals down his stomach, lower still. Washing it out, it was followed by conditioner (hers, which smelled like apples and was girly as all-get-out; it was too late by the time he'd noticed, so he accepted it), more tugging on his blond locks, a moan or two floating out. Accepting the slick slide of her hand as she guided a bar of his soap over his skin, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back slightly. She trailed the dips and planes of his build with the other, tracing the lines and riling him up something fierce. Purposefully, she avoided his penis, taunting him by skirting it and slipping by the base a couple of times. Snapping his eyes open, he glanced down in time to find her on her knees, scrubbing hard at his legs and looking up from beneath her eyelashes through the rivulets of stray water.  
  
Steve couldn't take much more of the teasing, and so when she rose back up—carefully, her hand firm against the wall and his on her hips—he turned them both, getting her under the deluge.  
  
Holly received nearly the same treatment, her longer tresses stroked and washed under his larger hands. When it came time to scrub her body, he shifted her so that her back was to him, all long and lean behind her as he worked. For a moment, she felt him pull back, the physical reminder of his desire not prodding her for a few seconds. Mumbling about how she'd missed a spot, he groaned under his breath as he washed himself with her body wash behind her, and she felt her eyes flutter shut. Soon enough, he'd placed some of the body wash into a loofah and lathered it up. Caught off-guard by his starting to scrub her bottom, squeezing it before gliding over her legs and up her back, she flattened her hands on the tile, his ministrations rough and gentle all at once.  
  
“God, I've missed this,” she panted when his arms curled around her, soaping over her belly and her arms. Down to the tops of her thighs his hands went, the loofah falling from his grasp and onto the shower floor as he reached the apex.  
  
“Same here, doll,” he grunted, coaxing her legs to spread. When she'd opened enough, he reached further, catching her clit and tracing around it. He rocked into her, his stiffness growing as he dipped his fingers in and out of her folds.  
  
“Missed having your hands all over me, touching me,” she told him, almost crying with arousal when his hand started moving up her body again, over the bump with a sweet rub. Another moan echoed in the bathroom around them as he cupped her breasts, his heavy breaths fanning on her neck. Her head craned back as the rough pads of his fingers circled and tugged at her nipples, whimpers and gasps choked down. It didn't hurt as it had before; his touch felt so good. “Been wanting you so bad for the last few days.”  
  
She felt his lips press to her shoulder, felt them form into a smirk.  
  
“Should've spoken up sooner. Wouldn't have been laying into the bag so much.”  
  
Leaning back into him, Holly nearly laughed at that. She _knew_ he had seemed overly aggressive lately. Too full of raw energy and tension.  
  
“Was a good warm up for your hands,” she remarked, humming her approval at his continued affections.  
  
“You know what I've really missed?” The whisper in his deepening baritone made a shiver run down her back, the catch of his teeth on her earlobe making her breathless. “How you taste.”  
  
Holly was spun around then, and was placed against the far wall. Sharp, cold air coated her as she was removed from the hot water, the tile behind her making her shudder. Looking up into blown-out, lustful eyes, she watched as Steve slowly sank onto his knees, goosebumps rising as his hands slid down her skin. One wedged between her and the wall, squeezing her ass before continuing its journey. Down, down the back of her thigh it went, ending at her knee. Light patterns were traced around it as he dragged his gaze from hers, focusing on her sex mere inches from his face and licking his lips. He hooked her knee up, perching it on his shoulder and opening her again. A flash of nervousness and reticence shot through her. It must have shown on her face as his brow had furrowed, his body straightening up enough to plant hot, wet kisses from hip to hip, over the bump. A smacking one was pressed right below her navel, and he met her eye again, both hands firm on her waist.  
  
“I gotcha, baby doll,” he said, shuffling closer (and wincing at the pressure on himself as he did so). Much as he was nearly shaking with need to get his mouth on her, he didn't want her to worry about her safety, or the baby's, in the slippery shower cubicle. “I promise.”  
  
Nuzzling the join of her hip, Steve waited until Holly nodded her compliance, taking a moment to make sure her leg was looped securely over his shoulder before charging ahead. Inhaling deeply, he went in, licking a long, burning stripe up her slit. Water rained down his back as he let his tongue lap and circle from her entrance to her clit, her cries and gasps spurring him on. She quavered and bucked as he sucked around the sensitive bundle of nerves, but he held her tightly, anchoring her so she did not lose her footing as he feasted on her. The flat and point running and whirling down below had Holly curling her toes, hands scrabbling to find purchase on the tiles as he started going harder. Fingers wound into his hair as she felt the string in her stomach twist, threatening to fray and snap. He hummed and moaned against her, the vibrations driving her higher in pleasure. Once he started delving at her entrance, though, she knew she was on the edge. Part of her truly wanted to just let go, let him take her and bring her over. However, the other part, the stronger one, didn't want it to be so...one-sided. Tugging hard on his hair, she practically forced his head back, him hissing in pain as she jerked on the short, slippery strands.  
  
“Steve, I've gotta, I gotta...” she trailed off, the desperation in her voice enough to get him to lower her leg, driving him back onto his feet and loosening his grasp on her. Snatching her moment, she pushed him against the tile, sinking to the ground (taking advantage of the fact that she could still do that for a little while) and her mouth wrapping around him with no preamble. Steve exhaled harshly, taken aback by her actions, eyes slamming shut as her tongue swirled over the head of his penis. He lost himself in the hot cavern of her mouth, the smooth slide as her head bobbed, taking him a little deeper each time. As her thumb brushed and teased over his sac, cupping it gently, he groaned loudly. Too much, it was almost too much.  
  
“Uh-uh,” he crowed, hands hooking under her arms and drawing her back onto her feet, his penis released with a pop. If he had hoped to stop her, he was doomed to disappointment (although one could argue there was no real disappointment to be had, anyway). The rush and slip of her hand along his shaft had him stalled, his mouth hanging open briefly as she continued working him. “Keep doing that, and I won't last.”  
  
“Bullshit,” she sassed him, leaning forward to nip and lick at his neck. Water rushed over them both, making skin slick to the touch as he dug his grip into her hip. “You got stamina for days.”  
  
He snorted at that, sweet tension rolling through him. “I've got six weeks of stamina backlogged.”  
  
“You and me both, sweetie,” she cooed, bending her head and letting her lips trail over his chest. Blindly, he grabbed the handle of the shower, wrenching to stop the tepid spray of water. Shivering, shaking, he snatched up her wrists, pinning them at her sides and kissing her deeply. A click sounded as their teeth rebounded, and she mewled into his mouth as he bit down on her lip. She returned the favor once her tongue moved along his, dual tastes of one another heightening all.  
  
“You wanna keep doing this in here, or move on?” he asked, just shy of picking her up and carrying her to the bed. Immediately, she nodded, pulling her wrists out of his palms and shoving playfully against him.  
  
“Move it, soldier,” she demanded, smiling wide at his eager grin. Awkwardly, he fumbled behind him for the shower door as he maneuvered around her, trying to kiss her again at the same time. Unfortunately, as he climbed out backward, his foot missed the mat entirely, landing off-kilter on the tile floor. A look of pure shock and dread contorted his face as he tumbled down, flat on his back. Holly shrieked as he fell, nearly pitching herself as she climbed out after him. A winded wheeze poured out of him, his hand rubbing at the crook of his neck as he leaned up on an elbow. Carefully, she knelt on the floor beside him, a palm cradling the back of his head and the other sliding across his torso as if to stabilize him. “Oh shit! Are you hurt?”  
  
Steve shook his head. Being laid out flat was not new to him; he'd been smashed to the ground enough times that way to know what kind of injuries he could sustain.  
  
“Nothing more than my pride and self-respect,” he grumbled, a slight wince dancing across his face as he shifted. Maybe a couple of bruises, but those would bloom and disappear within hours. Tenderly, his wife carded through his wet hair, a shaky giggle rising in her throat.  
  
“Anything to kiss and make better?” she tried to joke, her teasing grin met with the wolfish one that spread slowly over his lips.  
  
“Well, there might be one or two things...” he posited, reaching up and pulling her down to him. A short fall would not deter him, it seemed, and the little hiccup was all but forgotten as Holly draped her body over his, levered up on one elbow to alleviate pressure on her belly. Straddling him, the cool air that had licked her was ignored, forgotten in the heat passing between them. Teeth and tongues clashed as she captured his mouth again. In between breaths and kisses, he muttered against her lips, “Should we, should we not...here?”  
  
Gesturing helplessly towards the half-opened door to the bedroom, Steve watched as Holly rocked back, head shaking almost violently in refusal.  
  
“Not gonna make it that far,” she mumbled, “need you now.”  
  
The sultry, seductive mode of her voice lulled him into staying put.  
  
“Alright. Just let me get a condom.” He tried to turn and lift her off his body, enough so that he could crawl to the lower drawer of the cabinet and retrieve one. Even so, Holly remained atop him, hands braced on his chest and boxing in his hips with her knees, penis brushed by her hovering slit. Pausing, he stared up at her, blue eyes wide in curiosity.  
  
Her eyebrows inclined, and she smirked. “You catch something in the last few weeks?”  
  
Clearing his throat, some of the red that had been rushing down went back up to his face. “N-no. Just...habit.”  
  
“A good one,” she commended him, bare chest pressing to his as she kissed him once more, “but you won't need it for several more months, at least.”  
  
The dawning of understanding in that little reminder was lost as she pushed up, aligning with his hardness and sliding down. The heavy, water-slicked strands of her hair fell back as she tilted her face to the ceiling, mouth opening and lusty pants rocketing out as her body arched. Oh, the fullness, oh, the thickness and brush of him. Steve was nearly knocked flat again, his chest heaving as the warmth and slickness of her passage enveloped him. He felt near to bursting right then, just by being seated in her. Seconds of stillness surrounded them, fast gasps and minor tremors of the hips punctuating the steamy air. The feel of him bare inside her, for the first time, was enthralling and different. They both relished it, in those moments.  
  
And then Holly raised herself up, snapping back down with enough strength to make him grunt aloud. The sweet rhythm of the drag and pull, of her rocking up and down, started off slow. That only lasted a little while, the need and arousal already ratcheted up so high that teasing and stalling would only hurt in the long run. Water beaded and rolled with sweat, skin pliant and sensitive to the touch. Digging in his heels, Steve met her halfway on the downward slide, one elbow still holding him in a partway recline and his other hand kneading her breasts, one after the other.  
  
“Oh, God...” she drawled, nearly going cross-eyed when he angled his pelvis and thrust up into her, the tip of him accurately hitting her spot.  
  
“So good, missed being inside you,” he groaned, the closest approximation to dirty talk that he ever really got to in English.  
  
“Mutual feeling, Steven,” Holly ground out, hands slipping on his chest as she quested for leverage. Cheekily, she let her fingers run down, tweak his nipples as he'd done to hers, humming with delight as he threw his head back. At once, he rose up, nearly sitting up fully and shoving into her, shallow penetration disappearing in the dust. Skin slapped on skin, bucking and bobbing as the mirrors above the sinks bled in condensation, the steam of the room blanketing them as they moved. “Fuck.”  
  
Closer, closer, she was nearly there. About to tell Steve that, she felt his arm curl around her back, locking hard. A muffled command to hang on barely registered, but when it did and she wrapped her arms around his neck, she suddenly was turned. Writhing with the flooring cooling her skin, her legs wrapped swiftly around his waist. He lowered his forearm, looping it to raise her pelvis up. It remained there, keeping her elevated as his free hand planted beside her head, his legs lifting up until he was almost in a push-up stance. Hips rolled and shoved into hers, her passage contracting more and more with each piston and draw. It felt amazing, how he held her close, utilizing his strength in that way. The way he filled her up, hit every part of her that had her squealing and almost screaming for more, was enough to drive her out of her mind. Letting go of his shoulder, she wedged her hand between them. Holly gathered her clit between two fingers, rolling and stroking in time with his thrusts. Forcing his eyes open, he stared down at her, unable to look away from her dilated pupils and frown of pleasure-pain. He was toeing the line, the string in his gut poised to break.  
  
“ _Tá tú mianach, gach mianach,_ ” he growled out, pumping in and out for all he was worth. Faster, harder, the deep thrusts and the toying of her clit brought her over the edge. The clinch and slam of her walls around him made him groan, frantic grinding driving him on before he stiffened. He emptied himself inside her fully, the warmth coating and coasting down her passage and along him. Aftershocks made them jerk together, and those petered off as the orgasms were ridden to their conclusions. First lowering her hips, and then himself onto his elbows, Steve pulled out slowly, the hot and slick slide following his movement, and Holly instinctively clamped her legs shut, rolling onto her side to catch her breath. Steve wiped his brow, the pink and wrecked look on his face deeply satisfying to see as she looked at him. The black of his pupils were still blown wide, but delight was slowly replaced by concern the longer she went without speaking.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, rolling towards her. A touch at her temple, and then down on her belly, and he frowned. “Didn't hurt you, did I? Either of you?”  
  
Holly tiredly shook her head, scooting closer and running her finger along his jaw. Protective and caring, that was Steve.  
  
“No, I'm, we're...really good,” she told him, a silly smile stretching to match his growing goofy one. Propping herself up, she pecked his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and then his lips before lying back down. The tile no longer bit her; it felt very nice against her overheated skin. “Way better than good.”  
  
“Yeah, me, too,” he agreed, raking a hand through his hair and skewing it further. She giggled at that.  
  
“I know.” Off his arched eyebrow, she explained, “Got you all the way to Gaelic, must've been fantastic.”  
  
He laughed at that, a full-body one as he gathered her up in his arms, pulling them both up to sit. Leaning her back against his chest, he cradled her, a kiss on her temple and another in her hair as he held her.  
  
“It was,” he confirmed, sighing deeply and reveling in the sensation of her skin upon his. Raising her chin, a small, bright smile spoke to her agreement. A few more seconds passed, the click of the heater pumping in warm air to ward off the cold of upstate New York in January the only sound in that time. Blinking, she wriggled in his grasp to unlock his hold on her, taking stock of the room around them.  
  
“So who is going to clean up the floor now?” Holly wondered sarcastically. It had been cleaned the previous day, but with the additional water spillage, among other fluids that had dripped onto it, and the various strewn clothes and mats, it would need at least a scrub with some disinfectant.  
  
Steve tipped his chin up, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, you were the one too impatient to get to the bed, so...”  
  
She barely bit back a chuckle, instead poking his bicep. “You didn't have a problem with it, either, mister.”  
  
He smirked, casting his gaze around the space before glancing down at their naked, damp bodies.  
  
“Maybe we should clean up ourselves first?” he suggested, the glint that had glittered in his irises before the whole escapade had started returning with full force. Looking up at the ceiling, she considered his point, and then let her head loll left to right.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Snorting, Steve got to his feet, extending his hands out to her.  
  
“C'mon, beautiful,” he prompted, helping his pregnant wife back onto her feet and back into the shower. They did need to get cleaned up...and he wasn't done with her yet, the promise in his voice all but making her shiver again.

**Author's Note:**

> Used an online translator for Steve's one line.  
>  _Tá tú mianach, gach mianach._ -Gaelic, Irish; You're mine, all mine.  
> As always, multilingual!Steve is love. Same with caring!Steve.


End file.
